


Courses Changed

by nymja



Series: The Sad Grandpa Trilogy [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Force Ghost!Anakin, Force Ghost!Obi Wan, Gen, Rey Kenobi Theory, SPOILERS for TLJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 23:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: It all hangs, for a moment. The Light. The Dark. The living. The dead. The past. The future.“Kill the past,” his grandfather demands. “It starts here.”Kylo breathes. He looks at her hand.“Let us go,” Old Ben says. “And reach for what breaks the dark.”She meets his stare. Her brown eyes are resigned, but hopeful.He thinks of the door shutting. Of waking up alone in the throne room. Of a skull. Of what breaks in the dark.





	Courses Changed

**Author's Note:**

> The first two installments of this series are not 100% compliant with TLJ, since I wrote them foreeeever ago, but I was inspired by the movie to give this trilogy a conclusion. I hope you enjoy!

**Courses Changed**

 

They stand next to one another, hoods drawn over their faces. Around them is an endless sea of white, streaked with red. Above their spectres, an old Corellian freighter punches into the sky. Across from them, a row of AT-ATs begin to fold into retreat, a shuttle powering up in preparation.

 

 _“It won’t be long now,”_ says the elder, if age can still account for anything in this place.

 

 _“No,”_ his companion agrees.

 

The elder brings two fingers to his chin, rubbing the hair upon it with a thoughtful practice born from memory. _“Then we hope for a new direction.”_

 

The man beside him says nothing, eyes trained ahead.

 

The elder sends him a side glance. “ _Have faith, old friend._ ”

 

A small frown forms on his lips. _“I’ll try.”_

 

_“That is all any of us can do in times such as these.”_

 

Another will be joining them, soon.

 

\--

 

The moment he finally returns to _The Finalizer,_ Kylo’s first action is to storm into his old quarters. In there, he finds the skull of his grandfather, warped and clinging to the metal.

 

He bares his teeth. “Pathetic,” he hisses, but he doesn’t know who it’s toward. He doesn’t know what to _do_ with this insurmountable ache that refuses to leave him. That slips through his fingers like those damned _dice_ every time he tries to pin it down.

 

If he closes his eyes for too long, he can see it-- replayed like old holos: the bridge of his mother’s ship exploding. The slump as Snoke topples over. His uncle’s bodiless boots, dragging across the salt.

 

Rey, lifting up the gangway. Closing the door between them as he _kneels._

 

He’s breathing heavy, hands braced into fists on either side of him. He thinks of grabbing that skull, that helmet, of the man _who doesn’t matter anymore,_ and slamming it into the wall like he did his own helm. He thinks of pitching it out the airlock. He paces throughout the room, tearing at his hair and glaring at it. Its empty eye sockets two singularities.

 

Eventually, he lets go of a scream of frustration, gripping the nearest object--his bed--with the Force and hurling with all of his might. It sails across the room, shattering into pieces as soon as it connects with the wall. It buries the helmet from sight, but not from mind.

 

“I hope,” he says between clenched teeth, “that this is amusing you.”

 

Sweat drips down his face from his hair. His arm muscles strain, knuckles drawing tighter and tighter underneath his gloves.

 

“Well?”  He tries again.

 

In his quarters, there are four walls. A shattered bed.The skull of his grandfather.

 

And nothing else.

 

Kylo Ren slams his fist against the nearest wall, fingers biting with pain as the skin tears. “ _Fine._ ”

 

\--

 

She stares out the viewport, arms crossed over her stomach. There are no stars-- they are travelling too fast for that-- but she loses herself in the constant stream of light. The unending blurs of blue and white. Part of her grieves for Luke, not in the same way she grieved for Han, but still present and heavy. More of her worries. About the Resistance. About the _Falcon._ About what it is she can possibly do now.

 

“ _You_ broke _it!”_

 

She turns, a tired smile tugging at her lips when she notices her friend on the ground. He is a boy this time, pouting at the shredded halves of Luke’s (Ben’s? _Anakin’s_ ?) lightsaber. Not knowing what else to do with them, she kept the lightsaber housed in this side cargo hold--a small, cramped, space that she’s managed to carve out for herself on the now heavily populated _Falcon._

 

“Yes, I’m sorry,” she says earnestly. The two halves of the hilt shine in the low lights from the halls and flooring.

 

“ _I had that for a long time, you know,”_ the boy scolds, walking over to stand beside her in front of the viewport. “ _Do you know where you’re going_?”

 

Rey bites the inside of her cheek before shaking her head. “No. Leia says she has friends. I suppose we’re waiting on them.”

 

“ _You should listen to her. She’s smart._ ” The boy changes into a teenager. “ _Like her mother._ ”

 

Rey sends him a wry look at that. The teenage version of her friend grins.

 

 _“You could’ve gone with_ him,” he points out. She does not like whatever it is in his gaze. “ _He wanted you to.”_

 

She shakes her head. “No,” she says softly. Then with more conviction. “No, I couldn’t.”

 

The teenager frowns, not understanding. _“He killed his Master._ ”

 

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” she shoots back quickly. She leans her hip to one side of the viewport. “I’m...worried. About him.”

 

“ _Because you care?”_

 

She sighs. “Not exactly, no. I worry that he’ll come after us. That he’ll be crueler than Snoke.”

 

“ _That your connection won’t matter,”_ he finishes for her.

 

Rey looks at him, brows drawn. “I...suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

 

Shadows flicker through the hold, and the teenager becomes the burned man. “ _He is in pain._ ”

 

“He brought that all on himself,” Rey snaps.

 

To her surprise, the man seems to understand this better than his younger versions. Because he nods.

 

Rey feels herself uncoil. She runs a hand through her hair, and confesses to him what she hasn’t been able to say to anyone else--not even Finn. “I...tried. I tried to help him.” She looks down. “It didn’t make a difference. In the end, he went back right to his old path.”

 

Her friend doesn’t answer her. And the silence sits on them like a heavy blanket. By the time he speaks again, she’s closed her eyes, the side of her head resting against the wall.

 

“ _It made a difference._ ”

 

Rey blinks to attention. “What?”

 

 _“Your efforts. They made a difference.”_ The burned man becomes the boy. And the boy sidles close to her, his ghostly arms wrapping around her waist as though in a hug. “ _But he’s got to find his own way back home.”_

 

Feeling far from convinced, Rey sighs.

 

“I just hope he finds it in time.”

 

\--

 

“ _Were you thinking you did her a kindness?”_ It’s not the old man who finally appears, or the young one. It is the Jedi Master Kenobi, his beard cropped close to his chin and only sparsely grey. His does not wear his overrobe this time, his hands resting on his hips.

 

Kylo has changed his quarters, as is befitting a Supreme Leader. His quarters, and his grandfather’s skull, are left behind in the old. Untouched. Avoided. “I’m not in the mood for games.”

 

“ _It was a direct question,_ ” Master Kenobi states with only the barest raising of his brows. “ _An inquiry, from one who wishes to better understand your motives._ ”

 

His teeth grind together. “On _what_.”

 

“ _Rey.”_ He strides forward, until he is barely an arm’s width away from where Kylo stands in front of his viewport. “ _You told her about her family. What was your purpose in doing so?”_ He twirls the end of his beard, contemplating. “ _Despite_ all _evidence to the contrary, I don’t believe it was strictly malicious._ ” He tilts his head. “ _It wasn’t, was it?”_

 

Kylo’s next breath is a strained inhale. “Why...do you ask questions you already know the answer to?”

 

He smiles at him, a kind expression that Kylo immediately can’t stand. “ _Thinking aloud can be quite helpful._ ”

 

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he bites out. The space beyond his viewport is black and empty, dotted with unfamiliar stars.

 

“ _You wanted her to join you, not one week ago.”_

 

In response, Kylo pivots on his heel, as though he can outrun a ghost. He can’t. Obi Wan’s presence follows him, an annoying echo to every movement and he wishes the spectre would _leave him._

 

“ _You cannot outrun your actions,”_ this time, it is the old man speaking. His _namesake._ “ _Not anymore, my young friend._ _As I’ve said before, lights are drawn to one another in the dark.”_

 

He turns. “I’m not your friend!”

 

The old man stares back at him, his hands folded into the sleeves of his robes. _“Luke is no longer a place to lay your anger. Nor your father.”_ His eyes flicker up from beneath the oversized hood. _“Who will you blame next, Ben?”_

 

He seethes, lips pressing together in a tight line.

 

_“Your mother?”_

 

“Leave.”

 

“ _...Rey?”_

 

“You. Know _nothing_ ,” he growls. His heart beats in his chest, thrumming in pain and he can’t breathe. Every inhale reminds him of constraint, of the limitations of his lungs and heart and mind.

 

“Go.” His voice deepens as an eerie calm settles over him. “Don’t come back. We’re done here.”

 

The old man looks at him sadly. “ _No, Ben.”_

 

His body begins to fade, leaving only his voice.

 

 _“There is one final decision you must make._ ”

 

\--

 

She wakes, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple. It was the dream again, the same one. Of the dark on Ahch-To. Of a future going forward where she was alone, always terribly alone.

 

“ _You’re thinking about your family,_ ” the teenager says, and she nearly falls out of her hammock at the sight of Anakin’s padawan form leaning against one of the support beams.

 

Once she’s calmed down, she runs a hand through her unbound hair. “A little,” she admits.

 

“ _They still hurt you.”_

 

“Yes,” she whispers, bringing her blanket close until she can tuck it under her chin. “I wish they didn’t.”

 

“ _He tried to stop that, the hurting. In his own way._ ”

 

She sighs. The last thing Rey wants is another round of reasoning on why she should sympathize with Ben. “Yes, well. He didn’t.”

 

The spectral form of padawan Skywalker sits on one end of her hammock. He regards her curiously, as if there’s something he is still trying to piece together. “ _Did it help? Knowing the truth?”_

 

She snorts, looking up at him in disbelief. “Did it help knowing my parents _sold_ me? No, not exactly.”

 

Padawan Anakin looks past her, eyes and voice growing softer. _“My mother was sold,”_ he whispers. “ _When we were slaves. She ended up married to her master. To the man who_ freed _her.”_

 

She frowns. “That sounds terrible.”

 

He bites down on his lower lip. “ _It could have been. I’ll never know for sure.”_

 

Rey picks at the threads of the blanket. “I’m...angry, I think. Angry that they left. Angry that I spent so long waiting.” Her voice comes out as a whisper. “Angry that I’ll never get to ask them why.”

 

His ghostly hand hovers over hers. _“I understand,_ ” he says. His teenage features melt away to become that of the small boy’s once again. “ _I had a lot that I wanted to ask my mother.”_

 

She tries and fails to grip his fingers in a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

 

“ _Me too.”_ He ducks down so he can see her face, his small face contorted into a knowing expression. “ _But you know something, Rey?”_

 

“What?”

 

“ _I think you have a better family now._ ”

 

Something warm stings her eyes.

 

“...I think I do too.”

 

\--

  


“-and I would hate to think I’m boring you, _Supreme Leader._ ”  In the reflection of the glass, Hux’s pale lips press into a paler line—until it looks as though he has a scar for a mouth.

 

“You are,” he says curtly, not turning away from the viewport. The outer planets of the Hapes Consortium are currently under siege, little flickering lights in the distant, blackness of space.

 

He doesn’t hear them fall like he did Hosnian Prime.

 

“I assure you, the former Supreme Leader did not categorize these debriefings as _unnecessary_.”

 

There are other things on his mind. The ghost that haunts his steps. The threads in the Force, winding slowly and slowly toward a new nexus. The bond he still feels, anchored in another person who wishes for nothing more than to never see him again.

 

“I am not Snoke.” He makes sure his voice holds the threat that comes with such assumptions. After a moment of Hux’s stewed silence, he folds his hands behind his back. Watches as an acid red circle appears on the surface of Gallinore. It flares up, a small nova, as their forces’ detonators and torpedoes explode. The tally of his mind decides Gallinore is a victory for the First Order.

 

It should please him more than it does. Instead it’s just something hollow. It’s all been _empty_ ever since...

 

“She’s not there,” he whispers to himself. Disappointed. Angry. It is the seventh strike he’s lead, trying to root out what remains of the Resistance. _Where are you?_

 

“Are we to keep our focus on a single individual?” Hux’s cheeks have hollowed as he attempts to restrain himself. His pathetic derision fills the space between them, regardless. “Doing so will do nothing to quell certain...rumors.”

 

Fear, of a kind he does not understand, travels slowly down his spine. He exhales.

 

“Continue the bombardment,” he snarls, turning to leave.

 

Hux doesn’t allow it.

 

“There’s news-”

 

“I just said-”

 

“About the girl. Your scavenger.”

 

He stills. His hand is clenched tightly at his side. He does not care what Hux has to say, _he does not care-_

 

“One of our archivists was successful in following your lead,” Hux sneers, “Tenuous as it was.” He glides into step next to Kylo. “There is a trade registry on Jakku.” The sneer morphs into something smug and snide. “A Kira Kenobi was sold to an Unkar Plutt during the time frame specified. The description matches the one found on the receipt of transaction.”

 

 _Kenobi._ Kylo stops mid-step, and of course Hux notices the opening.

 

“I suppose that makes her another legacy you’ve misplaced.”

 

“Rebels tend to _hide,_ ” he bites back, frustration near radiating around him with no appropriate outlet for it.

 

“And victors should chase.” Hux cuts in front of him, forcing Kylo to halt in his step. The man raises one eyebrow, hands folded neatly in the small of his back. “That is, if the Supreme Leader wills it.”

 

His inhale is ragged. “And what. Does my esteemed General suggest?”

 

Hux raises a brow. “Bespin. My lord.”

 

“Bespin,” he echoes. He remembers stories-- of gambling, of scoundrels. Of a misplaced uncle--one his mother’s Resistance would likely still find reliable in their hour of need.

 

“Set our course,” he snarls.

 

\--

 

The tip of her finger presses into the grated floor of the _Falcon_ . Rey keeps her breathing even, doing her best to only focus on that one point, that one place in the entirety of the galaxy--to shut out everything (every _one_ ) out.  Balancing her body through the Force is still difficult, but it’s getting easier. She kicks up her legs.

 

And Rey does a handstand.

 

Sweat drops down her face into her hair. Her arm muscles strain, the sole finger supporting her weight digging harder and harder into the ungiving flooring.

 

“How’s it looking?” She asks, trying hard not to grit her teeth.

 

Rey hears the nearby porgs, the sound what’s left of the Resistance preparing to dock on Cloud City Station. She does not hear her friend.

 

“That bad?”

 

She flexes the muscles in her abdomen, letting her body relax in slow, incremental movements until she can bring her legs down without falling. Her toes touch the cold of the metal, then the balls of her feet, and she shifts her weight until she can stand.

 

Rey exhales, tired, and looks around.

 

Lieutenant Connix shoots her a worried glance, that she sheepishly waves away.

 

As soon as she feels that she’s alone or otherwise ignored, Rey looks up at the ceiling.

 

“Anakin?” she tries.

 

For a while there is no sound. And then she sees him.

 

It is the hooded figure. And he is staring right at her.

 

“ _You need to leave. Now.”_

 

She frowns, “What-?”

 

But he is gone before she can get her answer.

 

Rey wastes no time in pressing herself up and running toward Leia’s quarters.

 

\--

 

“She’s your granddaughter,” he yells at the empty space in his quarters. “ _That’s_ why you’re following me!”

 

Padawan Kenobi appears, arms crossed and eyes rolled upward. “ _Don’t be so short-sighted.”_

 

“All these years,” he snarls, “It was about _her,_ wasn’t it? Protecting _her_?”

 

Padawan Kenobi becomes the Master. “ _No, Ben.”_ His voice is soft. “ _This was only ever about you._ ”

 

“Liar!” He brings his lightsaber crashing through the old man’s spectral form. It, predictably, does nothing.

 

“ _The truth was hidden because you weren’t ready to understand._ ” A pause. “ _Neither was she._ ” The Master shakes his head, beginning to pace across the room. “ _We wanted you both to know that this was about more than just a...a legacy!”_

 

The calm in his voice is deadly. “...’we’?”

 

Master Kenobi pauses his speech, expression stone-faced.

 

“ _Who,”_ Kylo demands, as the _Finalizer_ prepares to enter into Bespin’s orbit, “Has she been _talking to_?”

 

 _“No one with answers,”_ Master Kenobi says. “ _Like it or not, Ben, I am here for_ you _. I have_ chosen _to be here for you. Can’t you understand this_?”

 

He glares at him, bringing his wrist to his mouth. “Hux!” He barks into the comm link.

 

“ _Supreme leader?”_ Cackles his voice on the other end.

 

Kylo meets Kenobi’s eyes coldly. “Prepare my shuttle to board Cloud City.”

 

“ _As you wish, Supreme Leader._ ”

 

Master Kenobi only shakes his head. “ _Set foot on that planet and you will be making a grave mistake._ ”

 

“My first,” he seethes, “was ever listening to you.”

 

\--

 

She pulls the hood of the cloak tighter around her face as the _Falcon_ departs. Rey was able to convince Leia in time because of Anakin’s warning, the General rallying the crew to change coordinates at the last minute.

 

She didn’t know that Rey had slipped away from the ship. That she had cloaked her presence and made for Cloud City on her own.

 

To wait.

 

“ _What are you doing?”_ Padawan Skywalker demands, following her steps closely as agitation washes over his features. “ _You don’t even have a lightsaber!”_

 

“I won’t need one,” she says, as she kneels in the middle of the docking pad. It is isolated. Safe enough for them to have what might be their last confrontation.

 

He starts to pace. “ _So you’re just going to surrender?_ ”

 

“No!”

 

“ _Then what are you_ doing?”

 

Rey looks up at the sky. Sees a familiar shuttle punch into view.

 

“I don’t know,” she admits.

 

\--

 

“Shall I open fire?” His pilot asks.

 

Kylo clenches his fingers onto the back of her seat. He glares at the solitary figure kneeling in the center of the landing pad.

 

It would end it. No prisoners, no quarter. Just as he had promised on Crait.

 

“ _This will not rid you of your anger,”_ Old Ben whispers to his side. “ _This will not rid you of anything.”_

 

“Land,” he commands.

 

\--

 

As soon as Ben’s feet touch the ground, Rey feels her friend vanish behind her. She breathes in slow, tells herself she isn’t scared as he moves closer and closer to her.

 

She is a liar.

 

Ben is alone on the pad, but she can see his pilot through the viewport of his shuttle. Senses that its guns are not yet depowered.

 

“Where are they?!” He screams.

 

“Gone,” she says with a calm she doesn’t feel. Her fingers bunch into the fabric of her tunic. “It’s just us now,” she whispers--intentionally echoing his words.

 

Ben halts as though slapped. In a minute his hand has withdrawn his lightsaber and ignited it. The red of its beam cackles and snaps in the space between them. Rey does not move from where she kneels. Not even when she feels its heat graze her cheek.

 

“Are you mocking me?” He finally manages. “Is this...is this the Resistance’s idea of torment?”

 

Rey frowns. “No, Ben. I’m not mocking you.”

 

“You turned me away!” He yells. “So why are you here?”

 

She does not know what he will do next, and for a moment her resolve waivers. Rey looks up, and her lips part when she sees a figure standing behind Ben.

 

He is old, the same blue as Anakin in the Force. He has a white beard and hair, partially obscured by a hood. He is motionless, but his eyes are kind.

 

 _Do not do as I did,_ the stranger whispers across her mind. _Do not leave him to the dark, as I did his grandfather._

 

Rey inhales, her mouth dry.

 

“Ben…” she whispers.

 

He draws his lightsaber up, his hand shaking.

 

“What!”

 

Rey closes her eyes. Bows her head down. _Do not leave him to the dark._

 

“I’m not running anymore.”

 

\--

 

He swallows at her words. “I don’t believe you,” he manages. And then, more panicked. More afraid. “Get up.”

 

She doesn’t move.

 

“Get. _Up._ ”

 

“No.”

 

He snarls, raising his lightsaber-

 

And stills when he sees someone kneeling next to her. A man in a black robe, half his face horribly burned. His eyes yellow underneath the blue spectre of his hood.

 

Kylo’s breath comes in short. He knows who this is.

 

 _Learn when to stop,_ his grandfather tells him in the Force. _Learn to let go before you lose who matters._

 

His lower lip quivers, as he stares down at Rey, who does not move even though he can see her trembling. The lightsaber is warm in his hand, as he turns it in his grip.

 

“I have to end this,” he manages. He does not know who he is speaking to.

 

 _“It won’t end with her,”_ Ben says from behind him. _“The pain you feel now will only become more powerful, more endless.”_

 

Kylo tries to clear the turbulence of his mind.  He stares down at Rey, who does not look at him. “Say something!”

 

\--

 

She breathes.

 

“ _Don’t be afraid,_ ” Padawan Skywalker murmurs next to her.

 

 _“It won’t be like before,_ ” he says as a child. “ _He doesn’t want it to be. Not really._ ”

 

Her fingers dig tighter. She is afraid, more afraid than she was before _The Supremacy._ There is no vision this time, no clear line of sight for what she must do or who either of them will become after this moment.

 

She looks up. Meets his frightened eyes with her own.

 

“You can…” her voice steadies, becomes more resolute. “You can kill me, now. If that’s what you want.” She straightens her back, looks up at him stubbornly. “Or I can help you stop the loneliness.”

 

She exhales.

 

“It’s your choice, Ben. You already know mine.” Her voice drops, and she extends out her hand. “Please make the right one.”

 

\--

 

It all hangs, for a moment.

 

The Light. The Dark. The living. The dead.

 

 _“Kill the past,”_ his grandfather says to him. “ _It starts here_.”

 

Kylo looks at her hand. Calm and expectant.

 

 _“Let us go,”_ Ben says. “ _And reach for what breaks the dark.”_

 

She meets his stare. Her brown eyes are resigned, but hopeful.

 

He thinks of the door shutting. Of waking up alone in the throne room. Of a skull. Of what breaks in the dark.

 

He sinks to his knees in front of her, head bowed down. After a long moment, he feels fingers thread through his hair. Comforting. He shutters his eyes closed.

 

\--

 

They stand across from one another, hoods drawn over their faces. Between them are the kneeling figures of their grandchildren, a disengaged lightsaber.

 

“ _This is not the end,_ ” says the elder. “ _Far from it.”_

 

 _“No...”_ his companion agrees.

 

They watch as his granddaughter brings her arms around his grandson. As he tenses and then collapses.

 

“ _...but it is a start in the right direction.”_


End file.
